


Wanted:

by hermitknut



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief, Post-Reichenbach, written before season three aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermitknut/pseuds/hermitknut
Summary: John's recovery is taking time. Spoilers for 2.3. Prompt was "Wanted, dead or alive" courtesy of liliaeth.





	

Molly stood by the window, looking out. John often came back there, to the street corner by St Bart’s – to the place he’d watched his best friend fall to his death. Molly wasn’t sure why.  
  
“He’s struggling to believe that what he saw happened, I expect. Denial can be one of the more troublesome stages of grieving.”  
  
Molly suppressed a shiver. He always seemed to know what she was thinking. She moved a little closer to the window, watching John, knowing that her eyes were being relied upon – depended upon – for the reassurance of the man in the corner of the room, however loathe he was to admit it.  
  
“He looks in so much pain when he stands there,” Molly murmured. “Like he’s watching it happen all over again.”  
  
That elicited no response.  
  
The lab was absolutely silent while Molly watched John cross the road and stand on the spot. The Spot. It felt like it should be capitalised. Perhaps John felt that way too. He stood there for a while longer, staring at the ground with such concentration that Molly almost felt she could see what he saw – the body on the pavement; the genius broken. She wondered, as she had many times before, what he had chosen as his last words. Nothing to pretentious, for it would have shattered the illusion. Something simple… had he given only half a sentence, as if to prove that this was no trick because if it was how could he leave something unfinished?  
  
Down below, John’s remembrance had been interrupted by a passerby kind enough to ask why a man would stand on a street corner looking as though his world had been torn down. John shook the woman’s hand off his arm and walked away. Even from three floors up, Molly could see that he was shaking.  
  
“He misses you,” she said. “You should tell him.”  
  
The man in the corner gave a single shake of his head, but Molly wasn’t looking at him.  
  
“He wants you around. God knows why after everything, but he does.” She was angry on John’s behalf, as usual. The man in the corner spoke calmly and precisely.  
  
“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘Wanted: Dead or Alive’?”  
  
Molly frowned, looking around at him.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“It’s the ‘or’ that’s important,” he said. “People think that what they want is for everyone around them to live forever, but what they really want is stability. Dead or alive doesn’t matter, as long as it remains the same.”  
  
Molly turned back to the window. John was out of sight now.  
  
“So you’re never going to tell him,” she said quietly. There was no answer. She looked around to the corner; it was empty.  
  
“Sherlock?” she called.


End file.
